Bernard Knight - Figure of Hate

Gwyn hauled Alexander out of the trough and dropped him heavily on to the ground. He lay still, and Thomas thought that perhaps he was already dead. Then he gave a great retch and vomited water, food and mucus, and began to push himself up on his hands, coughing and spluttering to rid himself of the rest of the foul water in his windpipe.

Gwyn grabbed his hair again and bent his head back. 'Ready for another bath, you murdering bastard? Or are you going to tell us the truth?'

Befuddled and half drowned, Crues momentarily forgot that escaping another submersion in the trough by confessing would inevitably lead to a hanging. But as he croaked and gagged his admission, he tried to shift the blame.

'Not me … 'twas Robert!' he gasped. 'He made me help, I swear!'

Gwyn released him and he crawled painfully up on to all fours, then slumped over with his back against the trough, still coughing and spitting out water.

De Wolfe stood over him menacingly, dangling the strap before him.

'You used this for the deed, you evil lout! Did you each pull one end, eh?' he snarled. 'I think you're a liar, Longus had nothing to do with it.'

Alexander shook his head, his sodden hair hanging lankly around his face. 'I tell you it was him. I want to turn approver, Crowner. '

'Time for that later, maybe,' snapped John. 'You'll first have to prove Robert Longus was involved at all. But I think you ravished this Agnes, then killed her either in perverted passion or because she mocked your lack of prowess.'

De Wolfe was deliberately inventing this scenario, as there had been no opportunity yet for a village wise-woman to examine Agnes for any signs of intimate violence. Alexander, now miserably cowed, rocked his head like a dying bull in a baiting-pit.

'It wasn't like that at all. I never laid a finger on her. May God above strike me dead if I lie.'

'He probably will, on the gallows in Magdalen Street,' retorted John. 'But if you claim you didn't ravish her, why should she be throttled?'

Crues leaned forward and retched again, spitting water on to the floor.

Gwyn grabbed his hair again and shook his head until his teeth rattled.

'Answer the coroner!' he roared, wishing to keep up the pressure and stop the man relapsing into a sullen silence.

'Because we were afraid that she had recognised our voices when that damned Hugo was killed. There was gossip in the village that said she might have recovered her memory of that night, so Robert said she had to go, for our safety's sake.'

De Wolfe's phlegmatic nature rarely allowed him to be thunderstruck, but here was a bolt from the blue. In getting this dull-witted oaf to confess to being involved in one killing, they had seemingly stumbled upon another.

'Hugo? You. killed Hugo?' he barked.

'I killed nobody, Crowner! I was just there when it happened,' wailed Crues.

'Are you saying that Robert Longus killed his master? Why, for God's sake?' demanded John.

Alexander slumped sideways and beat his fist upon the hard earthen floor of the forge. 'I don't know, I just don't know, sir! Robert was thick with all the Peverels, William, Hugo and now Ralph. I don't know what schemes he had with them, but he told me one night that it was too dangerous for him to let Hugo live and that I must help to get rid of him.'

John was becoming bewildered by the pace of these revelations, and he was to be further astounded by Alexander's next admission.

'I think he was afeared that Hugo would withdraw his promise of protection over the robbing and killing of that silversmith — but there was something else as well, I'm sure. He never told me anything, except ordering me to do this, do that!'

This long speech brought on another fit of spluttering and spitting, giving the coroner time to digest the fact that now three of his homicides seemed to be on the point of being solved. But Alexander Crues, slow-witted as he was, seemed to have decided that he had made enough admissions and that the best thing to do when one is in a hole is to stop digging. All further questions were answered by a denial of any more knowledge about anything, and even Gwyn's threats to push his head back into the trough failed to make him concede anything useful. He slid farther over to lay on his side, and apart from intermittent coughing and spitting seemed uncaring about his fate.

John turned to Thomas and Eustace, who had been listening open mouthed to these dramatic revelations.

'You are witnesses to what has been said, so mark the words well. And you, Thomas, will get them on parchment as soon as you can, in case our blackbird here refuses to sing any more.'

Gwyn looked down at the inert, wheezing figure at his feet.

'What's to be done with him, Crowner?'

'He'll have to come back to Exeter with us, roped on to a horse. Tie his wrists and feet for now, to stop him wandering off, while we find this Robert again.'

When de Wolfe went back to the hall, he found that all three Peverel brothers were there and, to his dismay, they were accompanied by Richard de Revelle, in riding cloak, boots and gloves. The last thing John wanted was any interference from his brother-in-law at such a sensitive time.

The former sheriff was seated at a table with Ralph Peverel and the armourer, their heads together in earnest discussion. Odo was standing near the firepit, talking to his steward and the bailiff, while Joel was sitting under a window slit with Beatrice, a chessboard between them. The game they were playing seemed to consist more of pressing their knees together under the small table than moving the pieces on the board. There was no sign of Lady Avelina, and John wondered whether Reginald de Charterai was still in the neighbourhood.

Conversation ceased abruptly as the coroner walked in ahead of his pair of clerks, Gwyn having stayed in the bailey to guard their prisoner.

'I hear you continue to intrude upon our privacy, de Wolfe!' sneered Ralph. 'When I next go to London, I shall have something to say to certain barons concerning your behaviour.'

'We'll, tell them that I have today arrested one of your armourers — and soon I may well take the other one, unless he can provide me with a very convincing explanation.'

There was a series of scraping noises as the three men at the table skidded back their stools to stand up and face the coroner.

'What mischief are you up to now, John?' brayed de ReveIIe, his little beard jutting out like the prow of a ship.

'Arresting who?' shouted Ralph. 'My armourer is here beside me!'

A grave-faced Odo came across to listen, and even Joel turned his head to watch with a sardonic smile. The steward and the bailiff looked on uneasily.

'I am taking that man Crues back to Exeter, roped to a horse. He has confessed to being involved in the murder of the girl Agnes and I have sure proof of that.' John could have sworn that a look of relief flitted over Ralph's face, but it was Odo who responded first. 'Alexander Crues? That's hard to credit. He's a stupid clod, but I would not take him for a murderous rapist. '

'He claims he was a reluctant accomplice — he says the prime culprit is Robert Longus there!'

John jabbed a finger towards the armourer, who had moved close to Ralph, as if seeking shelter.

'Crowner, I fear for your sanity!' rasped the middle brother. 'What gibberish are you trying to peddle to us now?'

De Wolfe ignored him and carried on. 'Not only that, but he implicates Longus in the murder of your brother Hugo, as well as the silversmith Scrope, down near Topsham.'

'Alexander is an idiot, he doesn't know what he's saying!' yelled Robert, stepping out from behind Ralph and gesticulating wildly at the coroner. 'His brain has been addled since childhood, all he's good for is beating metal with a hammer and cleaning chain mail.' De Wolfe ignored him and addressed himself to Odo, who was looking as worried as if he expected the sky to fall upon them at any moment.